a study in blush (ladrien)
by ddacat
Summary: When Chat Noir convinces Ladybug to watch over Adrien for a night, she's sure it will only end in disaster. Until she notices that out of the two of them, she's not the only one blushing. A short drabble/one-shot


"The akuma won't get you tonight," Ladybug said, sealing and latching the window behind her. She was acutely aware of Adrien's stare burning into her from behind, and it took all of her concentration to not dissolve into a puddle of sap right that instant.

The windows of Adrien's bedroom were like mirrors at this time of night, the brightest lights of the city dim and obscured behind the reflection of her red cheeks. _Red cheeks._ Oh, god, even in her reflection could she see herself blush.

"Ladybug?" said Adrien, quieter than usual, like in class, when he had to provide an answer to a math question he didn't know the answer to.

 _Oh, god, he's staring,_ she realized. She ran to the curtains, nearly tripping as she found her excuse for looking away. "The less you can be seen, the better," she said, hastily, pulling the drapes over the glass. Her reddened reflection still followed her, just ahead of the curtains, no matter how quickly she tried to erase it. She was hyper-aware of the fluctuations in her voice— she sounded like a pubescent boy, didn't she?– oh, god, what would Adrien think of her?– and then the curtains were all closed, and she realized she had no choice left but to turn and hope and face him.

His green eyes were rounder than the full moon on a clear night, his hands clasped behind his back. He was so poised, a bird on the edge of a branch, just ready to take off. He was such a model— her heart jackhammered _crapcrapcrap_ into her chest. Why had she agreed to this? She'd never make it through the night.

 _This is all your fault, Chat Noir,_ she thought. _I knew letting myself be bribed by your two espresso shots would be a disaster._

Adrien ducked his head, a warmth in his face too. Maybe it's the lighting. "Should- should I get you something to drink?"

Ladybug rubbed the back of her neck, reaching for her superheroine poise but falling flat. "A-a drink? S-sure, I'd love a wink—" She flinched, sure the color in her cheeks now matched her suit. "I mean, a drink!" She hung her head, covering her face.

"I'll- I'll get you hot tea, then," she heard him say, and she peeked out from between her gloved fingers to watch him leave. The door clicked shut, his footsteps receding, and Ladybug finally sighed, sinking into the floor. Why did she have to be such a dork? She hit herself repeatedly with the butt of her hand.

"Ugh," she muttered. "You're _Ladybug_! Get your act together!" She sighed again, then, slowly, forced herself to start picking back up the pieces of her dignity that she let shatter on the floor. If she could be somewhat composed by the time her crush— no, the love of her life— came back, that would be nice. Even if she had to duct-tape herself back together.

Rising from the floor, Ladybug's heart had palpitations again when she realized for the first time that _she was in Adrien's room! Adrien Agreste's room!_ She squeaked, then clapped her hands over her mouth. _He didn't hear that he didn't hear that._ She hoped.

Adrien's room was big. Well, duh, but the vastness of it hit her just now, after her attention had shifted from AdrienAdrienAdrien. She stood at the edge of a partly painted canvas, the overwhelming white space around her an impersonal snow drift. Above her were rows and rows of bookshelves, and below that his desk, his video game consoles, his bed, all pristine and tastefully picked. A room out of a magazine would have felt more lived in.

She paced around the looming white walls and the curtains she'd made such a show of closing. His desk had a laptop on it— closed, unfortunately— not that she had wanted to snoop, of course. She dipped in and out of his lounge area, her fingers trailing over the leather sofa and worn game controllers, tasting the details of his home life like each piece of furniture would fill her with the full picture. Of what it meant to be Adrien, to know Adrien… to be known by him.

She pressed a hand into his freshly made bed, into his creaseless comforter and tucked sheets and cloudlike mattress.

She was lying on it now, her head on his pillow, where _his_ head would go, her toes stretching as far as they could toward the bedposts, just inches short of where _his_ feet would be, if he were right here. She flicked her gaze up, up at the ceiling where Adrien would stare every night. And stopped.

Stopped breathing, stopped blinking, stopped computing for a second, or a minute, or a year— she didn't know; her sense of time had stopped, too.

Taped to his ceiling was a poster of a spotted mask, a picture-ready smile, a frozen wink, a set of black pigtails. A poster of her.

She couldn't think at that moment, but if she could, she'd be thinking everything. The gears in her brain had stuck on a bug, the motor whirring and whirring but all in vain.

Premise one: _Every night Adrien sees his ceiling._

She repeated that thought in her head, rolling it around and around until it registered.

Premise two: _On Adrien's ceiling is a picture of me._

And—

Conclusion: _Every night Adrien sees me._

Short-circuit. Again. Again. She could feel the wires sparking and fizzling out, the electricity popping, the circuit-board smoldering.

The footsteps were growing louder again, the clomp of shoes on stairs echoing. Ladybug sprang off of his bed, smoothing the comforter, the sheets, the pillowcase, and darting to the center of the bedroom, which was empty and blank and unassuming and an odd place to stand actually and— the door opened, tousled blond hair emerging, attached to Paris's cutest face attached to a body and an arm and a hand and the cup of tea now being extended right to her right now.

She blinked and blinked and then realized she was meant to take it. She reached out to take it and— _sizzle_ — her skin was touching his skin and his hands were cupped right where hers were meant to go and she looked up and their eyes met and no, it definitely wasn't a trick of the light— he was blushing.

The room was quiet, the door closed, the curtains drawn, and two kids with identical flaming cheeks stood in the center of it all, connected and connected and connected.

Ladybug took the mug and Adrien shoved his hands in his pockets and the wintery air turned into summer.

"Thank you!" she blurted, "For the tea, ohmygod that was so considerate of you and is this pu-erh because that's my favorite—" The tea sloshed dangerously. She froze, sheepishly, and took a scalding sip to silence herself.

Adrien just kept staring with those round grassy eyes.

"Should we sit?" asked Ladybug, rubbing the back of her neck again. "It's going to be a long night."

"Oh! Yes, of course," said Adrien, just as hastily, and gestured to the black leather seats of his lounge. They both sat, Ladybug setting her drink down, and Adrien just kept stealing glances.

"So," said Ladybug.

"So."

"Are- are you a fan, maybe?" she asked, smiling her picture smile. "I could autograph something, if you want, not that I think I'm great or anything, I mean—" She clamped her mouth shut. Getting herself to stop was like pulling on teeth— except, backward, sort of.

"Uh," he said, and she prepared to take it back. _He thinks I'm so full of myself oh-no-oh-no_ — "Actually, I'm a huge fan," he finished, with his own picture smile. "The biggest Ladybug fan."

"Chat Noir too? I can get him to autograph for you, too!"

"Chat Noir's— Chat Noir's pretty cool," he said, grinning. He gazed at her, the embodiment of sincerity. "You're the real hero, though."

She frowned. "Chat Noir is my partner. We're a team. He's as much of a hero as I am, if not more." An image of a smirking Chat popped into her mind's eye and she backtracked, "Don't tell him I said that, though! The crazy cat's already got an ego bigger than France."

He held up a hand. "It won't tell him, I swear. Ca- Camper's honor."

"Camper's honor? That's a thing?"

"O-of course it is," he said quickly, and she noticed he was blushing.

Blushing. She slowed down, remembered the details: the staring, the poster, the stuttering, although infrequent.

" _Ohmy_ —" she said. Her gears turned. She knew those symptoms all too well; she'd seen them all over herself, with anything that had to do with him. _No. Could he? He couldn't. But— could he?_

She stared at him, and he grew redder, his irises brighter. There was one way she could know for certain.

But she couldn't.

And oh, how she could. She was Ladybug— she had the confidence, the security, the secret identity— she could do it, and if it went wrong it wouldn't affect anything.

If it went wrong.

Or. Or… She studied his eyes, his cheeks, the tightness of his posture, the way he was sitting so close but so far away, his focused inhalations and exhalations, his lips and how they quivered and how he mirrored her right now, his hands folded just the same way, his gaze on just the same place…

She mustered every bit of daring Ladybug she had in her and lunged, her hands on his face and her knee by his hips and his head against the cushions and her body on his, skin to super suit to T-shirt to skin, and the steam of the tea swirling and his bright grassy moon eyes disappearing as she closed her own, and his lips.

His lips, warm and soft and opening for her, his lips that tasted faintly of coffee beans, _his lips_ on hers.

He was Adrien and she was Ladybug and she was kissing him and he was _kissing her back._

* * *

 **A/N:** Please let me know what you think! I don't write drabble like this often so feedback is appreciated :) Also if you want more, remember that this is only the beginning of the night ;) I might write the rest of it if it's in demand :) THANKS FOR READING


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